I awoke like a worm in the apple of the night;
The silent cellophane sleep broke as I turned
And the world's wheel trembled in its rut
At the touch of my universe.
Recalling vision from the clouds
I fastened the message of my being to its delicate foot.
It winged off at a clip . . . then plummeted to earth.
Now the soft sand cuts to my shod heel's bite
As I comb the desolate beaches of lost youth,
Piecing together like the fragments of an ammonite
The sad and weathered relics of my birth